Foundations
by HollyThorn
Summary: There, standing right in front of her in the gloom of the narrow hall, was the same pale, thin, blonde boy who had tormented her early teen years. Hermione knew that, but looking at the tall young man who stood in front of her at that moment, she just couldn't bring herself to think that's all he was anymore.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing. JK literally has it all.

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Hermione Granger absentmindedly trailed her fingers along the cool, grainy stone behind her as she stared out across the Scottish highland scenery. She allowed her brain to numbly drink in the view of the mass of greenery glowing orange as the sun began to set. She inhaled deeply, absorbing the smell and slight coolness of the mid-August evening air at the top of the Astronomy Tower. She let the breath back out with a smile and a sigh of deep contentment; Hogwarts was whole again, and everything was perfect.

She was not however naive in thinking that it would be like that forever more simply because Tom Riddle was gone (as was the same fate of most of his psychotic followers), but Hermione allowed herself that brief moment to believe that to be true.

The repairs and rebuilding of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had at first seemed like a long and gruelling project, but as soon as all volunteers had delved into their delegated tasks, the workload depleted significantly and the historic castle was restored within two months. Hermione had been at the forefront of the damage repairs, along with now Headmistress, Professor McGonagall, and the Charms teacher, Professor Flitwick. Together they had arranged what teams were to be formed and placed in which parts of the castle and exactly what was to be done. It had certainly been a lot of work and planning on all parts, but organising and Hogwarts were both things Hermione Granger was passionate about, so she found the task almost enjoyable.

That day had simply been a last minute check-over by a few people to ensure that everything was truly back in place in time for the 'opening ceremony' the following week. Apart from a few dust piles in empty classrooms, it had been clear. So there Hermione was – finished her task of restoring her home and school – admiring the fantastic view of the school grounds from the Astronomy Tower at sunset on a Sunday evening.

There had not many changes been made to the original structure of the school, but the Astronomy Tower had certainly been one of them. After the events of her sixth year that had happened there, no one person had felt the same visiting after it, so therefore, all planning parties agreed that a change should occur.

There was now no roof whatsoever and a waist-height (on the 5'4 Hermione) wall had been erected around the circular structure, with a strange circular stone bench and table in the centre, and below her feet the granite was paved with a white and flecked grey marble flooring. The bench allowed for easier chart-making in the Astronomy class and the white marble allowed for a reflective light to be cast in the usual darkness, but not being disturbingly bright for the stargazers either.

Hermione was sitting on the stone bench, with her elbows resting behind her on the stone table. It had quickly been her new favourite place in Hogwarts, and despite not being a particular fan of the subject itself, she had a newfound respect for Astronomy. This tower could certainly have been a place, if left alone, filled with dark magic. But it now felt like nothing terrible had ever happened in such a lovely place.

She had studied it briefly, but in the magical world, places where people die and/or where dark magic is performed are often left soaked in residual magic. This is due to the power and emotion that these acts entail, and how both involve an affection of the soul – which is certainly powerful magic. Hermione had never experienced it herself, but according to several of the books she had 'borrowed' from Professor Dumbledore, certain spells required so much power to be performed that they used some (and if not all) of the caster's _core magic_. Henceforth, this was why the tower needed to be at least changed in some form; as the Unforgivables used that night were an example of core magic depletion spells, and had unstable consequences.

Hermione had found the whole concept very interesting, and would have certainly investigated its theory further if she hadn't been so creeped out by the old Astronomy Tower. It was these thoughts she found herself trailing before a glimmer of red at the entrance caught her right eye; Ginny Weasley.

If she had not been paying a somewhat amount of attention to her surroundings, the bushy-haired young lady would certainly have fallen off of her seat in alarm at her friend's sudden appearance.

"Hey!" the red-head said breezily, as she flounced down beside her friend on the cool stone bench.

"Hello, Ginny," Hermione replied with a smile on her face. The youngest Weasley had a knack for brightening a room whenever she entered, and it was a trait about the girl that Hermione loved.

Ginny gently nudged Hermione's shoulder with her own. "Minnie's looking for you. Wants to see you in her office."

"Professor McGonagall?" Hermione said, attempting to maintain a straight face. However, she suddenly whipped around to face Ginny as she said, quite incredulously, "Her office? The _Headmistress'_ office?"

"Not like that!" Ginny said. She put a reassuring hand on Hermione's forearm. "It's not like you could possibly be in any kind of trouble – I mean you're Hermione bloody Granger!" Ginny laughed but immediately sobered up when she caught the pointed glare Hermione sent her and removed her hand. "If it's any consolation," she continued solemnly, "she didn't look mad or worried at all when I spoke to her."

Hermione turned away frowning; what could Professor McGonagall possibly want to see her in such a formal fashion for? If it had been anything less than critical, Professor McGonagall would have simply sent Hermione an owl, or would have even caught up with her herself. _I mean_, Hermione thought, _I've been around the castle for days – of course she knows where I am._ _No_, _something_ _is going on and I already don't like it_.

"Hermione?" Ginny urged warily.

"You say she didn't look at all worried when you spoke with her?"

"Well, no. She looked fine to me." The redhead shrugged.

Hermione's frown deepened. She knew Ginny was perceptive, so her saying that the headmistress looked fine meant a lot to her deductions. She sighed. "I'm sure it's alright. When did Professor McGonagall say she wanted to see me?"

"She didn't. But I'm assuming she meant as soon as I found you."

"Ginny!" Hermione scolded, abruptly standing up.

"If you haven't noticed, Hermione, but this castle is awfully large – I'm sure she didn't expect to see you appear right away!"

"Be glad that I know plenty of shortcuts around this place!" Hermione snapped as she flew towards the door and staircase beyond.

Ginny Weasley simply rolled her eyes at her friend's retreating back and followed her at a slower (and more calm) pace.

Hermione's heart was racing. It may have been from the four minute run she had taken in order to reach the Headmistress' office quickly, but it may also have been due to the fact that she was being called to the _Headmistress' office_.

During her jog/speed walk/sprint to the second floor, Hermione had concluded that this was definitely not a social call. Something was wrong and it involved Hermione. Or someone needed her help. Or there was terrible news to be delivered. But the most common thought she had running through her mind was; _they've found my parents_.

Her heart pounding loudly through her ears and her cheeks flush from her haste, Hermione took a deep breath as she stared at the gargoyle. She would have been there quicker, if one of the hidden staircases she was familiar with hadn't been blocked up. She had been sure of its presence before.

"Courage," Hermione said, her voice catching in the middle. Professor McGonagall had decided that her method of choosing the passwords would differ significantly of her predecessor's… Hers instead were things relating to the four houses. For example, last week's had been Helga.

The gargoyle remained still for a moment, and Hermione was about to repeat the password before it abruptly started turning and revealed the slow revolving staircase. Hermione jumped on, and started taking multiple deep breaths in order to calm herself even more as the anxiety of being told bad news suddenly engulfed her.

_I__ don't__ know if I can stand any more bad news_, Hermione thought to herself_, I need them to be okay, I need them to be safe_ _– even if that does mean a life without me_. Hermione had decided long ago that she would accept not being able to fully restore her parent's memories of having a daughter, if it meant keeping them safe and happy, even although it devastated her.

Hermione stepped lightly from the staircase and forwards towards the dark-oak door. She raised her hand to knock, but paused to take one last deep breath with her eyes closed.

_It's okay, of course it's okay. And if it is actually anything terrible, we can deal with it; nothing can be as bad as before_, she resolved.

She stood there for a few moments, taking control over her breathing and irrational thoughts. Hermione was in the midst of scolding herself for thinking too fast when she was suddenly shunted forward in to the door. Hermione hit the wooden door with an "_Oomf_!" and heard a baritone echo the grunt behind her; there was someone else in the hallway.

"What the-" a male voice exclaimed. "Oh, it's you." Whoever's voice it was suddenly changed in tone when he noticed Hermione, and she didn't particularly like it.

Hermione whipped around to see the person who had invaded her space so rigorously and recoiled at the sight of him. _Malfoy_, she thought venomously. But then as her heart-rate started to calm, she said to herself, _it's only Malfoy!_ Hermione blinked at his appearance in surprise at her thoughts, and she wondered at what point during the worst year of her life, did Malfoy become one of the least threatening people she knew?

Since Harry had appealed for both Draco and his mother, the public's behaviour towards them had generally been _tolerance_. In the Order, however, there was a mixed view towards the last (free) Malfoys. Many were not willing to so easily forget their strong involvement with the Dark side, and just as many others had personal vendettas against them.

Harry, of course, was supportive of their induction back into normality and had publicly thanked Narcissa for essentially saving his life. He had also even extended playing a friendly Quidditch game to Draco (who had politely declined). Ron had supported Harry's decision to be amicable; he understood their unmovable positions. He however, did not feel the need to be as 'friendly' as Harry did. "Sure, they're not as awful as we thought they were, but Malfoy's still a git," had been his exact words.

Hermione, on the other hand, was torn. She was of the same mind as Harry; she believed that they deserved niceties. "They _need_ for us to accept them. Imagine they were shunned again in a world they wanted to escape to for so long – they could just so easily revert, Ron!" she had replied.

The only problem that Hermione saw was that they wouldn't want _her _acceptance or friendliness. While they may not have been so upfront about their beliefs any longer, she knew that they didn't think of her as any more than a Muggle-born high-riser – and that was at best. Thus left her wanting to be nice and actually speak to them, but knowing at the same time it was worthless because they'd just turn their nose up at her as soon as she walked away.

There, standing right in front of her in the gloom of the narrow hall, was the same pale, thin, blonde boy who had tormented her early teen years. Hermione knew that, but looking at the tall young man who stood in front of her at that moment, she just couldn't bring herself to think that's all he was anymore.

She straightened herself and brushed down her jeans with a swift movement of her hand. Despite they were now on the same side and almost wanted to be nicer to one another (that she knew of), Hermione was still dealing with Malfoy – and there was animosity there that she never thought would ever dissipate between them.

She brought her head up to look directly into his face (she still wondered how he came up behind her without her hearing him do so), and almost burst into laughter; he was staring at her with a mixed expressed of distain, disgust and as if she was crazy – all at the same time. She had outwardly recoiled from his appearance and had stared at him without speaking for the past few minutes while they were standing together in a small dark hallway.

_No wonder he's looking at me like that_, Hermione thought, amusedly.

This was new territory for Hermione to see so many emotions on Malfoy's face at the one time, but she knew if she burst into laughter it would make things a lot worse. She bit her lip and turned away from him before he could see the amusement on her face.

Opening her mouth to retort in the same 'disappointed to see you' manner, Hermione suddenly realised something.

"Did Professor McGonagall ask you to be here, too?"

Malfoy blinked and took a small step back, "Too?" he replied in surprise.

Hermione fell against the door. "Oh no," she mumbled.

"So you're telling me that McGonagall wants to see us both at the same time? What the hell? I thought I was here to see her about coming back." Malfoy didn't fight to keep the tone of disgust from his voice.

"Well I thought she wanted to see me about my parents!" Hermione replied as disgustedly.

Both parties stood as far apart as was possible in the small, gloomy hall with similar expressions of confusion and disgust on their faces for a few moments before they were suddenly interrupted with the opening of the oaken door.

Hermione stumbled back with a quiet whimper, before regaining balance and finding herself suddenly face to face with the newly appointed Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

"Miss Granger. Mr Malfoy," Professor McGonagall said, nodding at each in turn. "The quiet was disturbing. I was afraid one of you had murdered the other."

Hermione was still reeling from the sudden appearance of her headmistress and the light streaming from the office as opposed to the dark hall. Professor McGonagall had known they were out there the whole time? And hadn't intervened?

Malfoy on the other hand seemed to take it in his stride and strolled into the pink-lit office with a lazy debonair grace that only _Malfoy_ was capable of.

"Professor–" Hermione started to apologise, but as she caught Professor McGonagall's gaze, she saw the sparkle in the Transfiguration teacher's eyes and realised her teacher was messing with her. "Oh," Hermione said, and smiled weakly. She was appreciative of the usually stern teacher attempts at humour, but at the same time it made her uncomfortable that she would use it around herself and Malfoy. Did the head teacher's obvious trust in him show that he was indeed a redeemed man? Hermione was deep in thought when Malfoy's voice interrupted her.

"Surely Professor, you didn't mean to call us both here at the same time?" Malfoy said, lazily waving a hand between Hermione and himself. "Unless we've made Head Boy and Girl, I can't see any other reason for us both to be here."

Hermione raised her eyebrows in surprise at him, to which he replied with the same action. But he was right; the two of them certainly could have been candidates for Head Girl and Boy. Nothing else could possibly fit. Hermione was suddenly flooded with an elated feeling as she imagined herself as Head Girl and all the responsibilities it would entail.

Hermione stared expectantly at Professor McGonagall, but the older woman wouldn't look at her. Hermione's hopeful excitement quickly faded to worry. So it _was_ something terrible that involved both herself and Malfoy.

"If you and Miss Granger would please sit, Mr Malfoy," Professor McGonagall said, throwing Hermione a sympathetic glance and indicating towards two out of the four seats Hermione had not noticed in front of the desk. "I would rather have to only explain myself the once. I am expecting others, so I'm afraid I cannot give you answers until they arrive." The Professor then exited the room through a door to the right of the large, golden desk.

Hermione was about to start hyperventilating. She didn't understand. She couldn't figure out what was happening. Usually, she had a clue as to what was going on, but this was the first time in a long time she had been so... unknowing.

Blindly, she sat down in the nearest leather arm chair and put her head in her hands. Hermione had a lot of thinking to do in a short period of time.

"Granger, if you're going to throw up; don't."

Hermione sharply looked up at the Slytherin sitting in the armchair next to her and found herself surprised; instead of his sitting in his usual non-chalant manner, he looked as uptight about this situation as Hermione felt. Malfoy was leaning forward, with his elbows on his thighs and his hands clasped together. He had also gotten a few shades paler in the few minutes since they had entered the room, making appear more translucent than ever.

_He's got just as much to worry about as me, if not more_, Hermione thought as she visibly relaxed into her chair at Malfoy's discomfort. She sighed and turned away from him.

"I'm not going to throw up," she said bitterly.

There was a pointed silence before Malfoy spoke again. "Good," he said simply. This was then followed by more silence. Hermione sighed again. A few more minutes in silence passed.

"I swear, if you sigh like that one more time, Granger, I am going to hex you so bad, you'll be dragged out of here drooling."

Malfoy's sudden outburst broke Hermione out of her deep reverie, causing her to literally jump in her seat. Heart racing erratically (again), she took a few deep breaths and looked again at the boy next to her. Even although he had been the one to comment on it, Malfoy looking like the one out of the two of them who was going to throw up. He was staring blankly at the floor in front of him.

Obviously Hermione's discomfort was making him even more nervous about this 'meeting'. But she knew she simply couldn't say "sorry" – they just didn't do that. If she pointed out to him that he looked worried and offered support, Malfoy would probably crucio her right there and then.

"I just don't know!" she exclaimed, sighing again. Pretending that she hadn't seen him seemed like the best option for the both of them.

"Oh, la-dee-dah, Miss Know-It-All-Granger doesn't know something for the first time in her life. We're all fucking doomed."

Hermione snuck another glance at him; he was still staring at the floor, but she could see a smirk forming on his face. Turning away, she began to smile. But she made sure that there was no trace of it in her voice when she spoke again.

"Well just for your information, Malfoy, I do actually know quite a lot, so it's perfectly reasonable for me to trust my brain enough to come up with rational explanations."

"Well I think that bloody title has gotten to your head, Granger."

"What?" Hermione asked. She turned to look at him: _what was he talking about?_

"_The Brightest Witch of Her Age_ crap." He scoffed at the floor.

Hermione sat straight in her chair and sniffed. "I don't need to defend myself to you, but in any case, that was created by the press and I have in no way encouraged the use of it. Personally, I think it makes me sound like a bloody lightbulb."

Malfoy finally turned and looked at her. He raised one eyebrow before fully sitting up. "A what?" he said hesitantly.

Hermione stared blankly at him for a moment before bursting into a fit of raucous laughter. Tears were streaming down her face when a familiar voice interrupted her.

"Hermione?" he said incredulously.

Hermione immediately sobered and sat up. She shouldn't have laughed at him, and when she caught his look of disgust as she turned around to look at the new person, it only confirmed her thoughts.

"Harry?" she replied in the same tone. Hermione stood up. Harry was standing in the now open doorway, looking confusedly between her and Malfoy. He had caught her laughing with Malfoy, smiling at him, willingly _conversing_ with him. _No wonder he looks perplexed_, she thought. Hermione was stumped and for the first time in her life, she didn't know what to say.

"I don't know about you two, but with Potter here, I'd say this situation just got around ten times shittier."

Harry and Hermione both whipped their heads around at Malfoy, who was now also standing. He was right. The three flummoxed teenagers exchanged similar looks of horror before Professor McGonagall re-entered the room through the same door she had exited, except now holding what looked to be tattered rags.

_The Sorting Hat_, Hermione thought excitedly before she started laughing again. _This is all so incredulous!_

The three others in the room all stared at Hermione with the same expression of confusion on their face. Their golden girl was surely losing her mind.

"Professor please tell us what's going on," Harry finally said, eyeing Hermione warily, who was now clutching her side almost bent over double. "_Before_ we come up with insane conclusions of our own."

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**A/N: Gah! There's not much explaination behind this one, but I think it's going to be a biggie. I'm rather excited as to what becomes of it. This chapter is just a basic introduction - nothing much happens. But the next one is going to be mostly explanation. I hope you enjoy!**

_**Holly - xo**_


	2. Chapter 2

The sight that befell Minerva McGonagall in her office was not one she could have ever predicted. Knowing the three young adults that stood before her since they were barely into double digits, the Professor would have thought she could knew them plenty enough by now to be able to predict their actions. This day, however, proved that wrong.

The Headmistress was astonished to witness her first candidate for Head Girl, a Muggle-Born Gryffindor and one of the most successful witches ever to attend Hogwarts, crying on the floor of her office in _laughter_ (at nothing the elder witch could identify), clutching onto her long-time enemy's trouser leg, which happened to belong to an equally as academically successful pureblood supremacist high-born Slytherin.

He was staring down at her in a look of disgust that Minerva McGonagall would usually admonish him for – but by the simple fact he was allowing her to continue to clutch his leg with such fervour, it confused the Transfiguration teacher enough to ignore it.

Her attention was also divided onto the third person in the room; a young man who was heralded wizarding kind's saviour, and the likes of _The-Boy-Who-Lived_ (twice by her count) by his inability to die. He was by all means a powerful wizard, having encountered more kinds of magic in his mere 18 years than Professor McGonagall had in her entire , he was standing in the middle of her office with a look of such befuddlement on his face, she could mistaken him for someone just time-travelled two hundred years into the future, by mistake.

_The Saviour_ was staring at his best friend, _The-Brightest-Witch-Of-Her-Age,_ clutch onto _The-Dark-Lord's-Almost-Heir_ in desperation. It was ludicrous. Everything was ludicrous. Minerva herself was clutching onto a pile of rags that turned out to be a talking hat, capable of Legilimency. She suddenly found herself wanting to join Miss Granger on the floor.

"Professor McGonagall?" a voice said warily from the door. Four heads turned to face the young blonde woman who now stood in the doorway.

Suddenly there was silence in the darkening office. The pink light of the glorious sunset from earlier was fading into the ink-blue of twilight, enforcing the sobriety of the meeting back into the minds of all its attendants.

"Is this a bad time?" she continued in the same uncertain tone.

"Miss Abbott! Oh no, no. Perfect timing. Please sit." Professor McGonagall was flustered. She couldn't believe she had not reacted appropriately. She quickly sat in her seat behind the golden desk and placed the Sorting Hat in the centre of the desk in front of her, ignoring the smirk the previous headmaster's portrait was sending her way. "All of you; sit," she barked.

She didn't need the confirmation of their obedience with the hurried sounds of chairs scraping on the floor and the squeak of leather, but it was satisfying all the same. Suppressing a smile, she began to address each of the members of her strange gathering in turn with her face as impassive as per the norm.

"Miss Granger, I can assume that you are now sound of mind, and I have no need to summon Madam Pomfrey to give you a calming potion?" the Professor raised an eyebrow at her golden student.

"No, Professor," she replied. The embarrassment was evident in her voice, and it was clear she did not want to elaborate on the matter – which was fine by Professor McGonagall.

"Miss Abbott, Mr Malfoy... you are now both of age and perfectly capable of basic magic, therefore summoning a bucket for yourself if either of you decide to act upon your appearance to vomit is not unreasonable. I do not think I should need to mention it, but failure to do so may result in unfortunate circumstances for yourselves."

Malfoy grunted and shrugged at the floor – having returned to his previous 'bracing' position. Professor McGonagall knew how his father would have scolded the boy for his current stature. This lead to her wondering how many other of Lucius Malfoy's ideals he now ignored.

Hannah Abbott merely nodded vigorously at the head teacher, as if in fear of opening her mouth a vomiting siege would ensue.

"And yes, Mr Potter, back to the matter at hand, thank you for the reminder. Please relax – what am I am about to ask of you is not grave."

"But it's not good either, is it Professor?" Hermione interrupted.

Professor McGonagall smiled kindly at Hermione. The Transfiguration teacher was glad to see that despite the horrific experiences her student had gone through recently, Miss Granger remained to be the same inquisitive and attentive student she had always been. She had always had a perchance to question, or 'test', her teachers – which annoyed most to no end. Professor McGonagall, however, admired it. She knew, even as a Professor for many years herself, that teachers had a habit of becoming ignorant of the student's views as the years went on; they saw the students more and more as a collective and less as individuals. Students themselves also had a habit of taking what their teachers said verbatim – and in many cases they are not right at all.

"It is indeed somewhere in the middle, Miss Granger. The situation we face begins with a long and complicated explanation – of which I will leave most of to the Sorting Hat here to do." Professor McGonagall relaxed into her chair and airily waved a hand at the hat in front of her. She was putting her trust in the pile of rags to do its job. _Ludicrous_.

The phrase 'you could hear a pin drop' applied intensely to the current situation in the Headmistress's office. Her four students were all staring intently at the hat on the desk with the same pale, confused faces as the Hogwarts Sorting Hat opened a rip near the brim, as if it was opening its mouth to speak. They all suddenly held their breath as the hat began to talk:

"_In the days of Old,_

_When Hogwarts was nothing but brick and stone,_

_Two brilliant witches and two magnificent wizards were called upon to be told:_

'_In order to create the legacy you desire, magic must converge and four to become one'._

_The four then separated, each in haste to solve the conundrum._

_Godric fled across countries, in a dangerous quest hunting myths and tales;_

_Rowena dove into her books, searching for an answer to fall in tandem; _

_Salazar used his own wiles and means, and asked among his acquaintances;_

_Helga, on the other hand, trusted the abilities of her peers;_

_And was content with keeping the maintenance of everything they had so far achieved._

_And so for many a year, _

_The Four searched for answers, unsuccessful._

_Because, as you see, they were nowhere near_

_Understanding their predicament without the knowing pull._

_As, for in order to succeed,_

_The Four's powers were only as strong,_

_As their combined core magic was freed,_

_And they found in each other a place to belong._"

The Sorting Hat then fell silent, causing an almost deathly silence to happen upon the room. Professor McGonagall held her breath as she watched the faces of her students comprehend what they had just been told. Both Mr. Potter and Miss Abbott had similar frowns on their faces; Potter no wonder thinking that we was yet again having to throw himself into something dangerous and Abbott questioning why the hell she was there in the first place.

Mr Malfoy and Miss Granger, on the other hand, were both staring intently at the hat with their eyes narrowed. Professor McGonagall suppressed the urge to laugh at the severity of their similar 'thinking faces'. She could almost hear their brains whirring away from her seat behind the gilded desk. The Professor wondered which student would be the first to break the silence.

"Professor, may I borrow some ink and parchment please? Before I forget anything," the female Gryffindor asked.

Professor McGonagall sighed; she had guessed wrong. She would have bet five galleons on Malfoy bursting into an array of protests. It was times like these she missed the Potions Master (to a certain degree), as he would have accompanied her on betting which student would be the first to break. She however had a bad feeling that he would have guessed correctly in that situation. The Transfiguration teacher's thoughts were only confirmed when she took a chance glance up at the Slytherin Headmaster's (recently added) portrait, to find him staring at her with a smug smirk on his face.

"Ah-hem," she adjusted herself into 'teacher-mode', ignoring Severus Snape's glow of smugness, "Of course Miss Granger." Professor McGonagall reached into the top left-hand drawer and pulled out a spare piece of parchment, a quill and a pot of indigo ink and handed it to her student.

The office fell back into its state of dire silence again, now except for the scratch of Hermione Granger's rapid note-taking. The Professor flicked her wand at a nearby candle, which lit all of the candles in the room in turn. Minerva allowed her to finish writing before she spoke again. She was continually surprised that neither the famously vocal Potter nor Malfoy had spoken up yet either.

"How much, may I ask, did you understand of that?" Minerva asked her students tentatively.

"Professor..." Hermione said quietly, drawing everyone's attention to her. "Surely not... Us four? Are you certain?"

"I wasn't, Miss Granger, no. But as the Sorting Hat spoke to you four, it can now be confirmed that each of you are the appropriate candidates."

"But... I'm not... There's two Gryffindors," Hermione spoke with a little more conviction.

"But is there?" the Professor asked directly. "Has enough not changed for anything to be possible now, Miss Granger? Tell me, do you feel the same inside yourself as you did a year ago?" She spoke the last question to the entire group.

There was more silence, as none of the young adults met their Professor's inquisitive gaze. She was right, though. Plenty had happened to these teenagers over the past year, and more, to have formed them into almost entirely different people; each person's experience and reasoning as diverse as the next.

"Can you all just stop talking in riddles and explain what the fuck is going on?" Malfoy suddenly burst out. He was looking very pale and his face was glistening from the perspiration of his worry. Minerva felt for the boy, she really did. Bringing the subject up no doubt also brought up terrible memories for the boy. Even so, however, she did not appreciate being spoken to in that manner.

"I sympathise for your situation, Mr Malfoy, I truly do, so I will not punish you, but speak to me in such a way again, and it will be the last time you do so – and I do not mean only towards myself."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied solemnly. Malfoy did not however look up at his teacher, causing the headmistress to sigh loudly. She was however distracted as she noticed the intense look Miss Granger was giving the side of Mr Malfoy's head. _She pities him. She's understanding his situation_, thought their teacher. Minerva's face almost lit up in excitement; this is exactly what they were aiming for. She needed these four students to understand each other at emotional levels for this to work.

"But yes, Mr Malfoy, you all do need an explanation. What the Sorting Hat just told you was the secondary part of this excursion. The first comes from some very old books I inherited when I became Headmistress. The inherited personal library of each Headteacher is a very large and diverse collection of tomes, and I personally do not believe that any Head could be capable of reading through the entire thing. It was mainly by chance that I came across these specific ones. And thank Merlin I did."

"But Professor, what did it mean?" Potter interrupted.

"I'm getting to that Mr Potter. It's common to explain the first thing before the second is it not?"

"Yes, Professor. Sorry, I just really don't understand. What the hat said... I get it... I just don't get how it refers to now."

"Of course!" Hermione exclaimed. She threw her hands in the air. "Hogwarts isn't just a structure is it, Professor? There was more to the founding of the school than simply building it, wasn't there?" she said enthusiastically.

Minerva recognised the shimmer of excitement behind the young girl's eyes. "Yes, Miss Granger, you are completely correct and on the right track. As usual." She said this with a genuine smile on her face. As a teacher, she didn't feel satisfaction from her students simply getting things correct – her joy came from seeing a student solve a problem and learn for themselves.

"Ah-ha!" Hermione exclaimed again. The three other students were staring at her as if she had lost her mind. "I assume your home is built in a similar manner?" Hermione suddenly turned to Malfoy.

"Wha... What?" he said, blinking at the girl's ecstatic face and his sudden inclusion.

"Oh, right," Hermione said, shaking her head. She picked up the piece of parchment she had written on earlier. "What the Sorting Hat said..." She indicated to the parchment. "It's explaining how the Founding Four actually built Hogwarts. And it wasn't simply a case of building the structure. I don't know how I didn't notice it before, I mean, it's pretty obvious. But yes, basically what the Hat said was that after the castle was built, the Founding Four actually _infused_ their _combined core magic_ in order to create the school the way it is now. I've studied core magic a little but this... this is _immense_. It's clear that this is not just a building, everyone who's been here can obviously see that. But my goodness, Professor, how on Earth will we do it?" Hermione was a little out of breath from her rapid speech, but the enthusiasm she had spoken with earlier died as she asked the last question.

"Wait a minute..." Harry said, holding up his hand. "Are you telling me that Hogwarts is basically... alive?"

"Well, in a manner of speaking, yes," Hermione said.

"Fine, that makes sense, but what the hell has that got to do with The Manor?" Malfoy said. Minerva looked at the boy carefully; he was looking a lot better than he had a few minutes ago. She wondered what it was that had perked him up.

"I just used it as an example." Hermione shrugged. "Plus, I think it might show us exactly why we need to do what we have to Hogwarts now. Think about your wards, have you seen anything like them anywhere else?"

Malfoy frowned. "No," he said after a moment. "Well, maybe some of the other Slytherin houses. Like the Nott's, and the Parkinson's. The Manor's wards are still superior, but they behave in a similar manner. But The Manor is nothing like Hogwarts." He looked at Hermione incredulously, as if the answers were obvious.

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "Obviously," she said. "But I would bet that the original Malfoys used the same kind of magic to protect and create The Manor. The point I was trying to make, however, was that _obviously_ it's not like Hogwarts – because the magic would have depleted over the years, would it not? By your reactions, I can assume that it has not been corrected by any of your recent ancestors. But I can assume that, because it was a miracle I was able to get through your boundaries at all, never mind actually in the house. If the old magic was still as strong, I should have been repelled and thrown back from the gates, at the very least."

The deathly silence returned to the office. Hermione simply tossed a section of her hair over her shoulder and re-read the piece of parchment in her hand.

"Hermione..." Harry said tentatively. He was frowning at Malfoy as he spoke to his friend.

"No." Hermione said this with absolute certainty, causing Mr Potter to sigh and sit back in his chair. Professor McGonagall simply blinked and shake her head slightly at the seemingly telepathic conversation the two friends seemed to have had.

"What Miss Granger is trying to say..." Professor McGonagall caught the attention of the four teenagers, who all abruptly turned to face her, "... is that Hogwarts has the power of the Founding Four running through its very walls – not unlike Malfoy Manor, which has died partially over the years – the same as Hogwarts' power has done in the aftermath of the battle and the rebuilding. The Manor has been redecorated many times over the years has it not?"

Malfoy mumbled something like "Mother moved the ballroom to the south wing last month."

"Yes, well, I'm sure the rearrangements are the reasoning behind your particular depletion, but in the case of our castle, the fact remains that the school was hit terribly three months ago – and it affected its magic severely."

"So... what you're saying is that Hogwarts needs some kind of 'boost' in core magic for it to return to normal?" Hannah said cautiously.

"Yes, that is exactly it, Miss Abbott."

"Yeah, but the problem is that we're apparently the new representatives for the Founders aren't we?" Hermione said sceptically.

"Well, obvious problem there, Granger: I see no Ravenclaw here, do you?" Malfoy replied, equally as sceptical.

Hermione shot Malfoy a look that Harry was familiar with, so he interrupted before things could escalate in the _Headmistress'_ office. "But that's what Professor McGonagall meant before when she said: 'are we really all still the same', right?" Harry looked to his head-teacher for confirmation, ignoring the fact that he just saved Malfoy's ass. "Are we to be re-sorted?"

"Yes, Mr Potter, I think that may be the wisest decision considering the confusion," Professor McGonagall said. She picked up the hat from in front of her and stood up.

Malfoy recoiled. "Right now? You're going to do it right now?" he said with a slight tone of panic in his voice.

"Well, Mr Malfoy, if you'd rather wait and do it with the new first years and in front of the whole school next week, then I'm sure we can reschedule." Professor McGonagall said this cattily, but she knew that he was terrified in case it said anything other than Slytherin. If anyone had changed the most since their first year, it would be Malfoy. His reluctance made the Professor question herself whether he would still be Slytherin or not.

"But Professor, we still don't understand how you knew to summon us particular four?" Hermione said.

"The Hat spoke to me directly a week ago. You three," the Hogwarts Headmistress indicated to Malfoy, Harry and Hannah, "were obvious. But the final 'riddle' described the 'Golden Child', and I assumed it to be Miss Lovegood, since she is the only blonde in Ravenclaw. But however, when she visited my office a few days ago, the hat would not speak to her. It was Albus that reminded me of something I said a long time ago. So, I took a chance today, and I'm very glad it worked."

Hermione was silent. She sat in her chair, twiddling with a piece of her hair, staring at the desk with an intense frown on her face.

Sighing, and not wanting to waste anymore time, Minerva plunked the Sorting Hat on Hannah Abbott's head, who jumped at the contact.

"Hufflepuff!" the hat said as soon as it made contact.

Professor McGonagall picked it up again and swiftly put it on top of Harry Potter's head.

"Gryffindor!" it said equally as quickly, which left Harry frowning.

"No horcrux," Hermione mumbled at her friend, who nodded in response, as Professor McGonagall put the hat on Draco Malfoy's head, only pausing slightly before doing so.

"Slytherin!" the hat said, only after a slightly longer time than the previous two. Malfoy had a tense expression on his face and nodded jerkily to himself.

When Professor McGonagall reached Hermione, the young girl looked up at her teacher with a look of worry in her eyes. Minerva smiled kindly at her as she placed the hat gently on Hermione Granger's head.

It was silent for a few moments before the hat exclaimed: "Ravenclaw!"

Professor McGonagall removed the hat, and Hermione immediately stood up and fled the office. She left the oak door wide open in her haste, and a cold draft followed.

* * *

**A/N:** Finally! A little bit of explaination of what the plot is going to be like! I'm going to say it now, so I can't chastise myself in the future... but I am most likely going to post infrequently. Sorry. And also, Hannah and Harry will not be a romantic pairing. Love you all!

_**Holly - xo**_


	3. Chapter 3

"Hermione..." Harry said tentatively. He was standing above his best friend, who was crouched on the ground in front of him. She was half-sitting against the wall next to the gargoyle guarding Professor McGonagall's office, mumbling to herself.

Hermione didn't raise her head when she replied. "It's not right, Harry," she said. Her voice was muffled by her arm, which was across her face on her knees.

Harry sat next to her on the floor and sighed. "I think it is," he replied.

At this, Hermione raised her head enough to glare at him. "Oh really? Tell me, Harry, in all of history who can you name that has changed houses at Hogwarts?" At his silence, she took it as a cue to continue. Hermione sat up fully. "_None_. Absolutely no single person ever has changed house in Hogwarts history. And I know this because I _know_ the history of Hogwarts, so don't give me shit about how 'oh, it could have happened, how are we supposed to know?'" She spoke the last few words in a tone that Harry had never heard her use before. _Mean and sarcastic doesn't suit Hermione_, he thought.

"Fine!" he said in an exasperated tone, causing Hermione to stare at him defiantly. "Let's just say that this _was_ an elaborate plan to get you to solve this mystery. You're still going to do it though, aren't you? Because let's face it, Hermione, you like it and you're good at it. McGonagall's right! None of us are exactly the same anymore. You even said it yourself: you don't want to become an Auror with me and Ron because you don't want to do the field work, you're not a fighter, and you don't like conflict! Seriously think about it... are you more Ravenclaw now than Gryffindor? Because from my point of view, this all makes perfect sense."

Hermione huffed, but was silent. Harry knew he was right, and being soft on her wasn't going to help. It was true though, she wasn't the same after they had spent their year away and to him it truly did look like she was now more Ravenclaw than Gryffindor. She had always been different to the rest of their Gryffindor peers, but nowadays Harry saw Hermione shy away more and more, and the Ravenclaw streak she'd always had in her seemed to become more prominent at each new decision she made.

She then suddenly dropped her head back onto her arms. "Fuck," she mumbled.

Harry's eyebrows flew up his forehead and he let out an abrupt bark of startled laughter. "Did Hermione Granger just swear? I must be hearing things. _The_ Hermione Granger? Nah, the world must've gone bonkers," Harry said teasingly and poked her in the ribs.

She squirmed away from him, but he knew she was smiling. Hermione sighed and lifted her head up. She straightened her legs out in front of her and put her head on Harry's shoulder. "I know it makes sense," she said after a moment of comfortable silence. "But I don't want it to."

Harry grasped her hand and held it in his own larger one on top of his thigh. "Even when I'm not at Hogwarts, I can't have a normal year," he said, only half-jokingly.

"And after everything that's happened, I still can't seem to find somewhere to fit in," Hermione replied. Her voiced wobbled, which made Harry feel slightly uncomfortable; he was no good around crying people.

"Hey," he said, pulling away to look at her face. "You've got us, silly. And look at me; I've hardly had time to fit in with all the shit that's gone on. To be totally honest, I still don't think I've accepted the fact that I'm a wizard." Harry laughed.

Hermione let out a hysterical giggle. "You've still not gotten over the fact that a half-giant knocked down your door and took you away on a boat to a castle in the middle of nowhere where people shoot beams of light at each other." She giggled again.

"I haven't had the time!" Harry laughed louder, causing Hermione to fall back into her hysterical fit of laughter similar to the one she had in Professor McGonagall's office.

They both continued to laugh to themselves until they heard footsteps approaching, when they both paused to look up at the advancing person. Malfoy was standing a foot away, having also paused briefly as he noticed them. But as they began to laugh again, he stormed past them, mumbling "Mental. Everybody is fucking mental," to himself as he walked – which only caused the two teens on the floor to laugh harder.

Hannah Abbott felt like her brain was going to explode. _I'm Helga Hufflepuff's representative. Hermione is now a Ravenclaw. I have to come back to school. My magic is going to become part of the school. Draco Malfoy is going to help. Hermione's lost her mind. Harry Potter is in the midst of things again. I'm part of something huge. Hogwarts needs me. _

She was torn between bursting with pride, and having the urge to vomit all over Professor McGonagall's golden gilded desk. After having settled somewhere in the middle, she simply remained silent and still to refrain from doing either. Hannah continued her silence during Hermione Granger's explanations and her dramatic exit, Harry Potter fleeing after her, Draco Malfoy's rant to the Head Teacher and his own dramatic exit, but when she was left alone with her Transfiguration teacher she almost let out a sigh of relief.

The other three students, despite having been in her classes for seven (-ish) years, she had barely said two words to any of them during the entire time. She felt almost uncomfortable around them – she didn't know them. Potter, Granger and Malfoy were celebrities in their own rights, and what was Hannah? Seeing them around school and in class meant nothing. Her younger sister was about to start her third year, and was constantly asking Hannah about them and some of the other 'famous' students that just happened to be in the same year as her, but Hannah never really had much to say about them.

During their fifth year when she was part of Dumbledore's Army was probably the closest she had been to '_The Golden Trio_', as the press liked to call them. And from what she had seen, they'd seemed like nice, normal, teenagers. Hannah had been sceptical of a lot of things that had gone on with Harry and Hermione, but now looking back on it, she blamed most of that on a lack of knowledge rather than disbelief.

Malfoy, on the other hand, she didn't know what to think of. She'd probably had more interactions with him than she had the other two. Being a Hufflepuff and all, Hannah had been subject to more than her fair share of Slytherin harassment. But due to being pulled out of school after her mother's death in her sixth year, she had missed what people had referred to as his turning point. When she'd returned in seventh year, all Hannah simply saw was a bully way out of his depth, and she'd felt almost sorry for him.

She could remember feeling terrified at the thought of being forced to go back to Hogwarts after having missed most of a year of schooling, no Dumbledore, and half of the student body missing, on the run, or dead. That had taken its toll on her when she'd started seventh year – causing her to mess up more than she should have. Hannah visibly shivered in her chair as she remembered having to be punished by the Carrows on several occasions. It was Neville that had solidified her thoughts on her stand with Harry; he'd believed in them so wholly, and she couldn't help but follow that.

Hannah had always felt closer to Neville Longbottom over all of the rest of the Gryffindors. At first, it was because she thought he was more Hufflepuff than Gryffindor, but then it was because of their shared love for Herbology – working together in class in companionable silence every now and then. Then, during their horrendous seventh year, he had became their rock; their light in the dark. She'd thought it cringey, but it was him she was loyal to, furthermore reaffirming her loyalty to the DA and Harry Potter. Hannah dreaded to think what would have happened if she hadn't had Neville around.

So there she was, sitting in the Headmistress' office, in the midst of a new crisis with three of the most important people from the most recent Wizarding War – and she couldn't help but think it was all a little crazy.

"Miss Abbott, are you all right?" Professor McGonagall said kindly.

"Wha... uh... yes," Hannah replied meekly, having been suddenly jolted out of her thoughts.

"Do you understand what's going on and what has been asked of you?" Professor McGonagall continued in the same, rather patronising, tone.

"I do, Professor," Hannah said more confidently. She had responsibilities now; she couldn't let herself get so flustered anymore.

"Good." Professor McGonagall said firmly. "I knew I could always count on a Hufflepuff." The Professor smiled, and sat down. The elder woman then sighed and put a hand to her forehead. "Those three, however," she gestured to the door, "I have no idea. Definitely have minds of their own. Not that I admonish it – I'm very proud of that. It will just make them working together a lot more difficult."

Hannah began to feel that Professor McGonagall was speaking more to herself than the student in front of her.

"All four of you will have to create some kind of bond with each other before the week is out, and my goodness, I can tell already that it'll be a difficulty," the teacher continued.

"Week?" Hannah squeaked.

"Oh, dear," Professor McGonagall looked at the Hufflepuff. "Did I forget to mention that? Merlin, this meeting did not go as I'd planned." She shook her head at the floor.

"Professor..." Hannah said warily. "I understand that Hogwarts needs our core magic to be properly restored but how do we actually do that?"

"Well, Miss Abbott, from what I've read in Rowena Ravenclaw's journals, I believe that it has to be done through, not a spell, but through The Founder's chairs."

"Chairs?" Hannah said confusedly. _Chairs?_ She thought. _What a bizarre idea_.

"Yes, dear, _chairs_. Exactly as I thought, too. But, as I discovered here from Haffordswill," Professor McGonagall glared up at one of the portraits, "Apparently, The Founders each had their own 'throne' as you will, which was the connection to their magic."

Hannah began to feel excited. _Well, at least I won't have to learn a complicated spell_, she thought. But then, as it occurred to her, she began to feel dread. "But where are the chairs?" she said. Chairs that could be mistaken for thrones were surely not something that a person could miss – and she could never remember seeing anything like that at all.

"We currently know the whereabouts of two of them; the Head Teacher's chair in the Great Hall and the one I am sitting on right at this moment," McGonagall said with a wry smile.

Hannah's mouth fell open. Of course those two would be them. They were both stunning and golden gilded, high-backed and very grandiose. She wanted to slap herself for not noticing it before. The chairs were similar in style, yes, but they weren't exactly the same. One might think that it was because they were for different rooms, but as Hannah looked closer, she could now imagine that it was because they belonged to _different people_.

"From the inscriptions and the detailing, I have determined that the one in the Great Hall belonged to Godric Gryffindor, and this one belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw. The other two, however, I have been unable to find," she said solemnly. "You haven't happened to see anything like this have you?" Professor McGonagall asked sarcastically, half-turning in her chair to show Hannah more of it.

But as soon as Professor McGonagall said it, Hannah knew exactly where Helga Hufflepuff's chair was. "Yes," she breathed. "I know where it is!" Hannah exclaimed, standing up.

Professor McGonagall drew back in shock at the usually timid Hufflepuff's outburst. "Sorry," Hannah mumbled, and sat back down.

"Oh, don't be, child! Please, tell me where you think you've seen it."

"Well..." Hannah began. It was a house secret and she didn't feel comfortable sharing it with a Gryffindor. _But this is the Headmistress!_ Hannah shook her head and continued. "The entrance to the Hufflepuff common room is probably the most secretive of the four houses, which is a feat in itself to enter. But there's additional secret rooms inside that not all of the 'Puffs know about."

A gleam of excitement started to shine through Hannah's eyes. She was very proud that she had been trusted with this knowledge, and she knew that she was betraying nobody by informing the Head Teacher of this, never mind in order to save the school, so being able to talk about this made her feel very good indeed. Hannah was proud of her house and its differences, no matter what any of the other houses may say about it.

"A Hufflepuff finds out more about the tunnels as they go up the school, and whether they get promotions or not. Like, when I became Prefect, the sixth year Prefects showed us how to get into a section of the tunnels that I had never seen before. It's basically extra and more private study rooms, but in the smallest, there's a very pretty golden chair. I had never thought much of it before because nobody really used that room because it was rather cramped, but I truly think that's the chair you are looking for, Professor!" Hannah became breathless as she finished. She didn't think she had ever said so much to Professor McGonagall before, and she knew that she should feel nervous about it, but she didn't – which Hannah took as a good sign.

"That certainly explains why I was unable to find it," Professor McGonagall finally said after a moment. "I shall send Filch to retrieve it in the morning."

"Oh no!" Hannah exclaimed. There wasn't many Hufflepuffs currently staying at Hogwarts – only the ones with nowhere to go – but Hannah still didn't want any of them to know that she was telling secrets of their House to outsiders and then bringing outsiders in. No, just no, she could never. "I can ask Ernie and the new Prefects to help bring it up," she said more calmly. Yes, she thought, them I can trust.

"I see," said Professor McGonagall. "Well, if that's what you think best, then so be it." The Headmistress rose out of her seat, an action Hannah thought to be suddenly more regal with the knowledge that the chair was actually _Rowena Ravenclaw's throne_. "I understand that this has been a very long and... interesting... day for you. All of you. So, now, you may return to your usual dorms and rest. I'm afraid I will have to send for the four of you again in the morning. There is not much more we need to discuss, but the group must be together for me to do so. Thank you, Miss Abbott." Professor McGonagall then nodded at Hannah, who was surprised at the sudden dismissal. She was particularly glad though – it had been a strange day, and she needed time alone to allow her brain to process everything. Professor McGonagall strode to the door and held it open for the young Hufflepuff.

Hannah hurriedly stood up and quickly walked to the door, only pausing to say "Thank you Professor," and continuing down the spiral staircase and through the corridors to the Puff common room and her dorms in the same hurried pace.

Hannah found herself sitting on her old term-time bed before she realised: _I'm not even staying at Hogwarts!_ Hannah had flooed to The Three Broomsticks from her home to go to Professor McGonagall's meeting, so it was particularly strange of her to come to her dorm room.

_Professor McGonagall made me get flustered_, Hannah thought to herself. _I seriously must stop letting myself getting so wound up_. Then she shrugged her shoulders and rolled back onto the familiar warm honey coloured four poster bed. _May as well just go with it_, she thought before she fell into a surprisingly deep and sound sleep.

* * *

**A/N:** Is my plot starting to make more sense? There hasn't been much dramione... YET. Next chapter will almost be entirely focused on Draco.

_**Holly - xo**_


	4. Chapter 4

Draco Malfoy had never found solace in his Hogwarts dormitory in the six and a half years he had ever attended the school, but after the peculiar day he'd had, he suddenly found a certain comfort in crawling into the silver sheets and pulling the green drapes across the four-poster bed.

He had further never appreciated being forced to share a bedroom with four other boys. Young Draco had begged his father to move him to a private room; or goddamn build one if there weren't any there already. Lucius Malfoy had however, surprisingly so, denied his son the chance of privacy (as if he'd had the power to separate him, anyway), and had told the eleven year old Draco: "You are now a Hogwarts student and will be treated as no less or no more. Do not give them more of a chance to hate you."

Young Draco hadn't understood what his father meant by 'hate'. Why should everyone automatically dislike him? They didn't know him. But his father had been right. Almost as soon as Draco had started speaking to the other new first year students, he began to make enemies. Well, how was _he_ supposed to know that most of the other students didn't call the muggle-borns 'mudbloods'? It was what his father and everyone else who visited his house called them.

Even when he had insulted Weasley to Potter on the first day, Draco hadn't understood why the stupid scar-head hadn't agreed with him and laughed. It was what his _father_ did. Draco had spent most of his first and second years being confused by the other student's reactions to certain things he said. Draco later realised that it was the things he repeated from his father that was the cause of this. It was the initial reason why he'd simply stuck with the rest of the Slytherins, even despite the fact that a lot of them creeped him out. Sure, Draco liked a bit of tormenting here and there, but some of his house-mates got _serious_ kicks out of torturing the other students.

Different as he was, there Draco was – a fucking reincarnation or whatever of the founder of the house itself. He snorted aloud at the audacity of it. Draco was lying flat on his back, staring at the green canopy of his bed above him. He didn't understand why he'd chosen to stay in the school, but it'd felt like the right thing to do. McGonagall had yelled the Slytherin password at him as he'd stormed out of her office. He was annoyed, but thankful.

Plus, he didn't really want to go home. He hated being there now, especially after Shitty-Lord Cuntdemort had ruined it for him. His mother had spent the entire summer redecorating the place, but it still emitted a sense of icky-ness that he did not want to be around.

_McGonagall must be going absolutely bonkers_, Draco thought to himself. _Her age must be catching up to her. Yeah, that's it. Because there's no way if she was in her right state of mind that she would let me back into this school_. Draco tried relentlessly to assure himself that his headmistress was barking, rather than face the truth; that he was a true and utter Slytherin to the core.

Draco eventually fell into a restless and unnerving sleep. His dreams didn't make any kind of sense, but all of the snippets he actually remembered were tinged with blood and shades of green. But despite this, it had actually been one of his better night's sleeps since the Dark Lord had finally decided to permanently move out of his house. When Draco awoke in the early hours of the morning, with stinging eyes and a faint sense of 'not-quite-had-enough-sleep', he rubbed his face hard and sighed deeply.

"It can only get better from here," he said aloud to the empty dormitory, feeling more alone than ever.

Breakfast was a strange affair. Draco had usually gone home during every school holiday, so he had never really seen what it was like when the Great Hall was sparse during mealtimes. It was after several more attempts at falling back asleep, that he'd given up and rolled out of bed at seven thirty. The hall had always been open from six every morning, but Draco had no idea how it would work that day. Did people even usually stay at Hogwarts during the summer? Was that an option? _No_, he reasoned, _or else Potter would've taken up a permanent residence_. Draco snorted. Even he knew about Harry Potter's shitty living conditions. When they were kids, he'd laughed at him for it – but now he could almost relate.

With a scowl on his face, and a determined stride, Draco walked into the Great Hall with the appearance of someone who was entirely sure of what they were doing and where they were going; the entire opposite of what he felt. This was something that he had only recently had to learn. What was the point in being a successful Occlumens when people could easily read your body language?

Only pausing slightly, and barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Draco continued his determined stride to the large circular table that was currently situated below the staff table. As it was early, there weren't many people seated, but there were enough to annoy him. He aimed for the emptiest side of the table on the right, boycotting whoever would be mad enough to willingly be up this early. Draco was not a morning person, and didn't appreciate inane chatter in any particular setting.

He pulled out a chair angrily and it scraped loudly on the stone floor, and sat down with a sigh. Draco barely glanced up as he began to pour himself a cup of tea, but it was long enough to catch Granger roll her eyes conspicuously behind her book at him. He took a deep breath to rein in his feelings; hexing one of the most favoured witches in the world over their breakfast would definitely not be any kind of progression for him. Draco instead proceeded to make as much noise as he possibly could as he began to pile his plate with the breakfasts foods supplied by the elves. He most likely wasn't going to eat all of it, but he just wanted to annoy the girl for as long as he could.

Draco was impressed. Granger had remained impassive for at least ten minutes before she cracked. With a wry smile on his face, he had began to butter his sixth piece of toast, attempting to hit the plate as often as was possible, when she finally snapped her book shut and turned to face him.

"Just because you are clearly in some kind of mood, does not mean that you have to ruin breakfast for everyone else, too," she said cattily.

Draco narrowed his eyes at her before grinning widely. "Who said I was in a bad mood?" he said as cheerful as he could fake.

Granger however surprised him by sighing and turning back to her book. "Just be quieter," she said in a lacklustre tone.

He continued to stare at Granger for a moment, and then dropped his eyes back down to his plate. How was he supposed to forget everything that had happened when people like her continued to make it so obvious that things were different?

A sudden cry of "Mr Malfoy!" jolted him out of his reverie. Draco snapped his head up to find a startled Professor Slughorn staring at him over the table as if he had suddenly grown pink antlers out of his arse; shocked and a little disgusted.

The Potions Master had clearly been unaware of his presence up until Granger had spoken to him. _Great_, Draco thought, _another unwanted conversation_. He rolled his eyes openly as his old teacher began to speak and missed Granger's knowing smirk at his actions.

"Now you are a face I wasn't expecting to see! Did you arrive last night?"

"Sure," Draco responded.

"Goorey! Did you know that Mr Malfoy would be joining us?" Professor Slughorn addressed the fourth person at the table. 'Goorey' turned out to be the pile of cloth at the opposite side of the table from Draco. Goorey grunted, which Slughorn took to be a "No".

"Miss Granger?" Slughorn prompted.

"No, Professor," she said with a side-eye glance in Draco's direction and barely taking her eyes away from her book, which annoyed Draco to no end. He glared intensively at the side of her head while she took a tentative sip from her cup of whatever, still not taking her eyes off the book. _What the hell kind of book could capture someone's attention like that?_ Draco thought in a tone of disgust, barely hiding his curiosity.

"So, Mr Malfoy, what brings you to Hogwarts?" the Potions Master said jovially.

Draco was about to reply when Professor McGonagall arrived and spoke over him. "Mr Malfoy, along with both Miss Granger and Miss Abbott here, has become of great importance to the school, and is here at my bequest," she said authoritatively. Slughorn's face lit up like the Weasley's joke shop at Christmas. Draco could physically see his Professor bursting with curiosity. _So the other teachers don't even know that Hogwarts' magic is falling apart then? Interesting_, he thought.

Draco narrowed his eyes at his Transfiguration teacher. He didn't need to be defended. People acted like that around him all the time. Just because he was suddenly 'important' to the welfare of the school, Draco Malfoy was shunted to the Light side? He fought the urge to laugh outright.

Ignoring the patronising smile Professor McGonagall sent his way, he then turned his attention to the other person he had failed to notice at the table. _So the Hufflepuff had stayed as well_, he thought. _Then where the hell is Potter?_ Draco then noticed that there were no more people at the table.

Professor McGonagall seemed to be on the same wavelength as him, as she then asked Granger, "Where's Potter?"

"Oh, he should be along," Granger said, folding a page in her book and placing it on the table. _Oh so you'll put your book down to talk to _her_ then? _Draco thought bitterly. The rational part of his brain replied: _Of course she would– it's the head teacher_.

Draco noticed Slughorn inflate further at the mention of 'Potter'. He rolled his eyes again. If he was going to have to spend any more time with these fools, he'd end up giving himself an aneurism with the eye-rolling.

"Would you please fetch him, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall continued, "I'd like to finish this quickly, and since you are all here, now is perfect. Meet us back in my office in ten minutes. Miss Abbott, Mr Malfoy – with me." She strode away.

Draco was taken by surprise and found himself meeting the Hufflepuff's equally as befuddled gaze in a camaraderie manner and raised an eyebrow at McGonagall's commands. It was the blonde's sudden giggle in reply that reminded him where he was. _No_, he thought, rearranging his face into a frown, _I'm not here to be nice_. Draco rose and followed the headmistress.

In the Entrance Hall, Professor McGonagall stopped and turned to the students following her. Draco felt someone bump into his back at the sudden stop. He scowled but didn't turn round. Who cared who it was; they wouldn't do it again.

"I'll just..." he heard Granger mumble as she sped towards the marble stairs and away from their group. Draco's eyes followed her for an moment, then immediately turned his head towards Professor McGonagall.

"Mr Malfoy, if you would please head on up to my office. Miss Abbott, run ahead and tell Mr MacMillan we are in need of his and another's assistance? I'll follow."

The blonde nodded and immediately took off in the same direction Granger had gone. Draco opened his mouth to protest. Why was he being sent to the office? He thought they were all getting spoken to again? What the fuck? _More fucking things we don't know_, he thought as McGonagall cut over him.

"Everything will be explained in due course. Again." She sighed wearily and followed the direction the Hufflepuff had sped off in slowly.

So there Draco was, left standing alone in the Entrance Hall with his mouth partially gaping open staring in the direction his previous companions had gone. _This is going to be a damned interesting year already and term hasn't even bloody started_, he thought grumpily as he then too walked up the marble staircase and up and up and up again to the head's office.

"Courage," he said bitterly to the gargoyle. Draco had taken his time getting to McGonagall's office, even trying to go the longest way he could possible think of; he didn't want to be the prat sitting around waiting for them all to return.

Draco waited for the gargoyle to start moving – but it remained still. "Courage," he repeated. Still nothing. Then, with a cry of annoyance and a foot stomp, he strode over to the ugly stone creature and stared directly up at it. "_Courage_!" he yelled in its squashed face.

"I don't think it being deaf is the problem here." A voice suddenly came from behind him. Draco whipped around to find the source of the scathing comment. _Ah, of course_, he thought, _Granger. How fucking perfect. And Scar-Head, too. My day has been made_. He rolled his eyes and said: "Well, if you have to mean it, it's never going to work for me. By all means, be my guest." He stepped out of the way and gestured her towards it sarcastically.

"I don't think it's going to work for us either," the stupid haired boy said.

"What?" Draco said, equally as stupidly.

"Were you not listening in the last meeting? Aw, who am I kidding, of course you weren't. It won't work because it's part of the depletion of magic in Hogwarts. Things like this are stopping working all around the school." Granger folded her arms smugly.

A light suddenly lit up in Draco's brain. Granger made sense, and it pissed him off. Therefore, he ignored the information he totally agreed with and replied sarcastically: "Well, maybe McGonagall just changed the password and didn't tell _you_."

Granger raised an eyebrow. "And she told _you_?" she replied.

Oh, what Draco would have given to be able to hex that witch right there and then, but because of the situation and the fact that he'd be tossed right into Azkaban if he did, he replied with a simple: "Fuck off."

But where he stepped back, Granger took a step forward. She stared right up into his face and replied, "Right back at you."

Draco stared incredulously at her for a moment. "What the hell is your problem?" he said, taking a step forward himself. What the hell _was_ her problem? Maybe he had been wrong about his assumption that their old hatred had diffused into a strange kind of indifference?

They were now standing very close together, the almost foot difference in their height was suddenly very apparent to them both. _She's so short_, Draco suddenly thought, surprising himself. Granger was obviously trying to stare at him in an intimidating manner, but to him all she looked was cute. _Cute_?! He shook himself. The magically infused hair and the determined chin did not look cute to him at all. Not at all. But he found himself beginning to smirk anyway. However, that was before she began to speak.

"My problem?" she almost screeched.

"Hermione," Potter said warningly. But Granger whipped around and pointed her wand in her friend's direction. _When the hell did she pull that out?_ Draco thought in awe, before she turned her attention back to him.

"My _problem_ is _you_... all of you purebloods with everything you stand for and everything you are! And people like you who cannot make decisions for themselves and continue the same damn cycle. Make a fucking difference Malfoy!" She pushed his shoulder and he took a step back.

Wait... what?

Draco was confused, and so apparently was Potter, as they both unintentionally shared a look of befuddlement over Granger's head.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Draco spat at her.

"Figure it out, you twat!" she shot back. And she turned and stormed down the corridor. Potter shook his head at nothing in particular then followed her.

"What the fuck?" Draco yelled after them, but it was mostly at himself – nothing was making sense. Ever since he had arrived at the school yesterday, Draco seemed to simply be accumulating more things he didn't know the answer to. He kicked the gargoyle in frustration and it suddenly began to turn. "Oh, _now_ you work," he said scathingly.

Draco hadn't felt such an array of emotions in a long time, but he suppressed it all anyway. _Not Granger, not Granger, not Granger_, he repeated to himself as he ascended the stairs to the headmistress' study for the second time in two days.

"So... chairs," Draco said bluntly.

"Yes," replied Professor McGonagall.

The office was silent for a moment, and all eyes unintentionally went to the new object in the room; a third golden gilded large chair. Three Hufflepuffs had brought it up earlier, with much difficulty on the stairs. When Draco had heard the commotion, he'd originally thought the office was under attack. But no, the oak door had swung open to three red-faced Hufflepuffs struggling with a thing that looked like a throne. They were soon followed by the Not-So-Dumb-Looking-Hufflepuff (Draco was yet to think of a suitable non-name for the blonde), and an exasperated Professor McGonagall.

Granger and Potter had turned up not long after, and had pointedly avoided Draco's gaze. Not that he cared. Granger looked red in the face and ruffled, which lead to make Draco wonder if it was actually Potter giving her some rather than Weasley. The thought however made him frown.

Their head-teacher had then hurriedly explained some strange theory that they were to fix whatever shit was going on with the school by having something to do with these chairs. Although, as Draco eyed the golden throne-a-likes, he could very much see himself liking that idea as he imagined himself sitting comfortably in one of them.

"However, Mr Malfoy, I believe that we shall require your help in sourcing the fourth and final one."

"Oh, of course the Slytherin one is missing," he said, throwing his hands in the air.

"What about the Chamber?" Potter piped up.

"I sincerely doubt Salazar Slytherin would keep his _throne_ in the place he built for his _pet_." Draco rolled his eyes at Four-Eyes' stupidity.

"You see, Mr Malfoy, this is why we need your help. You have the best access to the knowledge where he would have maybe kept it," McGonagall said.

Draco blanched. He didn't want that. He didn't want to 'know' things about Salazar Slytherin. He didn't want to empathise with the weirdo. Draco was his own self... wasn't he?

"Maybe he had some kind of vault down there though?" Granger said.

"That was pillaged years ago. And no, still not in the Chamber of fucking Secrets," Draco scoffed. He blanched again; it definitely was sounding like he was proving them right.

"Salazar Slytherin had a secret vault?" Granger suddenly turned her attention directly to Draco. Her inquisitive gaze was freaking him out. It was the intensity that he found creepy. Who wants to learn that much?

"He had a secret bloody everything. But the vault, I suppose, was the most sought after for obvious reasons and was found a few hundred years ago." He paused to look at the four other people in the room, who were staring at him with genuine interest. "Have none of you seriously never heard of this before?" Draco said warily.

"Must only be a pureblood thing," said the Hufflepuff. She then waved her hand around the room. "And none of us are purebloods."

No purebloods in the room... except for him. Draco didn't think he had ever been in a situation like that before, but found that it strangely didn't bother him. At all.

"'The Great Pillage of Dover'? No? A few hundred years ago, when the Malfoys were still actually French," he scoffed, "they were really into sailing, which was actually what brought them to England in the first place. And during that first journey, they docked in a magical port where they incidentally found by entire accident, the secret vault of Salazar Slytherin. While the man was compulsively secretive, he always did like to mark his spot. Nothing like snakes carved into stone to attract some Malfoys." Draco smiled coyly. "But of course," he continued, "There were other pureblood families from the continent and further on that boat. The Zabini's, the Shacklebolts, the Rosiers and the LeStranges are the only ones I can remember. But it was the raiding of that vault is what established a lot of the old families and gave them the funds that they have today. But of course the Malfoys were already established by then," Draco added out of habit. He couldn't believe how much he could remember from his governess and their lessons.

Everyone in the room was staring at him, and Draco suddenly felt his cheeks heat up. He had never had any kind of problem with people staring before – they did it all the time. But this, he felt, was a different kind of stare. A stare he was unfamiliar with.

"Professor..." Granger said.

Professor McGonagall simply handed her a piece of parchment and quill with ink.

"Thank you." Then, the only sound in the office that could be heard was the scratching of Granger's quill. A sound that all of them were particularly used to.

"Mr Malfoy... do you have any kind of inclination where this chair might be?" Professor McGonagall said.

"I... well..." and suddenly, Draco did know.

Draco knew exactly where the fourth and final chair was.

* * *

**A/N:** Most of this chapter was written in my back garden on a surprisingly hot day (when I should have been studying). Who knew laptops didn't cope well in the heat? Me, apparently.

This one I actually found pretty hard to write. It pains me to say that I couldn't find my inner Draco. I definitely spent longer on it than I had intended to. But on a good note – it's a long one!

Next chapter: We find out where Slytherin's chair is, and we go to The Burrow! Yay!

(the chair isn't at The Burrow fyi)

_**Holly - xo**_


	5. Chapter 5

Hermione was confused – which she found was both problematic and particularly unusual. She usually dealt with the regular everyday obstacles in the same way each time – _what were the facts?_ And solved them easily; determining and eliminating all possibilities and scenarios.

But now? What information she had been bombarded with over the past two days was most definitely something she could not solve in her usual way. Scarily, it reminded her of when she, Harry and Ron were hunting for Horcruxes and nobody knew anything and they struggled to understand anything they learned. She shivered at the memory. Oh, how she had been mistaken in her thinking that her final year at Hogwarts would be '_easy_', or any shade of normal for that matter.

Hermione hadn't slept well that night, if it could have even been called sleep at all. She had lain awake alone in her old dormitory for hours, simply wondering what the hell had changed about her so much that Hogwarts would change her entire house. Sighing, she'd called it quits at six o'clock and had gotten ready for the day ahead, causing her to arrive at breakfast not long after the hall doors had opened for the day. And then, to her delight, Malfoy had arrived in all of his prat-glory. It had not been the best of days so far for Hermione, and her outburst hadn't improved any either. For someone who firmly believed in second chances and acceptance, she had surprised (and disappointed) herself at blaming Malfoy for everything that was wrong – a lot like what the old Hermione would have done.

Therefore, after Harry had shaken some rationality back into her and the shame had set in, Hermione hadn't even been able to look Malfoy in the eye when they had arrived in Professor McGonagall's office. He hadn't technically done anything, and she knew she had started it. An apology was needed, but _apologise_ _to Malfoy_? That was certainly a territory Hermione had never had to approach before.

_Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing_, she reasoned. True indeed, however, she also knew that it would create a huge turning point in their relationship (if it could even be called one), and Hermione also knew that once that was breached, it would begin a flood of things each had to apologise for. And that, she knew, neither one of them was capable of doing. Some things just couldn't be solved with an "I'm sorry".

So Hermione decided to simply ignore him. Sure, they would be in the same year, the same classes, but she had been perfectly capable of ignoring him before, so why not now? Having made a decision she was comfortable with, Hermione had relaxed a little more in Professor McGonagall's office as she explained something about chairs. She had rolled her eyes at the part where Salazar Slytherin's throne had been pronounced missing. _Oh, what a surprise_, she'd thought. But it was Malfoy's reaction and explanation that'd had her unnerved again.

As she watched him speak, Hermione had realised that she had never seen him simply _talk_ before. Of course they'd conversed over the years, but it was always only snide comments or questions laden with sarcasm. She had never heard him speak, and it was certainly interesting.

Hermione almost missed the information that he had given due to her incoherent thoughts._ No thinking like that_, she mentally scolded herself. _No distractions when there's a problem to be solved_, she thought logically, and continued to write on the piece of parchment Professor McGonagall had handed her silently. Hermione had almost fought off a smile – she wasn't becoming predictable now, was she?

"Thank you, Mr Malfoy," Professor McGonagall said, finally breaking the silence, following Malfoy's speech. "I can trust to, as they say, 'leave you to it'?"

"Yes, Professor," he replied, nodding solemnly.

Hermione was bursting with curiosity. Where was it? What did he know? What was he going to have to do to get it? Was it with Death Eaters? Was he still in cahoots with any of them? But however, to her dismay, the rational part of her brain shut it down and forced her to stay silent. Allowing herself to trust that Malfoy could do this successfully and on his own was punishment for not apologising to him. At least, that's what she told herself anyway.

_Giving him a chance, giving him a chance, giving him a chance_, she mentally repeated to herself with her eyes closed. Hermione gripped the seat of the leather chair tightly and counted to three before reopening her eyes and letting go. It was a new thing for her to become removed from a situation. This year, she had also told herself to answer less in class. Just because you know the answer does not mean that everyone wants to hear it.

"Good," said Professor McGonagall. "Now, onto the last thing, I think. I'm presuming that you all are returning to Hogwarts to redo your final year?"

Harry half-raised his hand warily. "I'm not, Professor," he said. "I've been accepted into Auror training."

Professor McGonagall's face visibly tightened. "Ah, yes, Minister Shacklebolt told be about the... opportunity offered to some of you." She then stared at Hermione, as if daring her to confess she was also joining.

Harry and Hermione shared a look. "It's only myself and Ron who accepted," he said. Hermione flushed under the gaze of her headmistress and best friend at the implication Harry's sentence provided. There had been a rather heated debate between herself and her two best friends on her decision to return and not follow them into the Ministry. It was harder for her to make that decision than they thought. Hermione had never really made other friends in their year other than Harry and Ron, and without them she felt like she was heading in alone.

"While I firmly believe that you are all rather young for all of this," said Professor McGonagall, "I do also believe that I have no right to cast judgement over your decisions, Mr Potter, and you have shown perfect capability with what you have accomplished at your age. I further remember that this was your same ambition four years ago, therefore, I can only congratulate you and wish you the best of luck." Professor McGonagall then gave him one of her rare smiles.

"Thank you, Professor," Harry replied.

"I will definitely be returning, Professor," Hermione said.

Professor McGonagall nodded. "Miss Abbott?"

"I... I would very much like to, Professor. I didn't do very well last year, you see."

"Yes, I remember," Professor McGonagall said tonelessly. "But nonetheless, I am glad you have chosen to return, Miss Abbott." Hannah smiled. "Mr Malfoy?" Professor McGonagall continued.

Hermione held her breath. She had assumed he was returning. But what if he wasn't? She supposed that, with him being a Malfoy and all, he also had the opportunity to walk straight out of this office and into a secure job. Or into the family business... whatever that was. _Whatever he decides_, she thought,_ will show us all what kind of person he's choosing to be_. It was like a light bulb had blown in her head. This was also a test Professor McGonagall was giving him. Hermione could see it in the lines in her headmistress' forehead and in her narrowed eyes. If Malfoy chose to return to Hogwarts, it meant that he was choosing to step away from the traditional Malfoy life. He was going to choose to gain an education and get a job that way – as opposed to the norm of pureblood society and getting in on _who_ a person knew. Hermione was on the edge of her seat in anticipation. No one else in the room appreciated how much of a big deal this was.

"I..." he stuttered for a moment. Malfoy glanced at the three other students in the room, who were incidentally all staring at him. Hermione saw him sit up straighter. "I would like to return," he said confidently.

Forgetting where she was for a moment, Hermione began to smile. It grew into a full blown grin before she realised what she was doing, and caught Harry's eye. He was staring at her in a 'what the fuck are you doing?' way, and she quickly corrected herself. _As long as Malfoy didn't see_, she thought, as she looked for any trace of weirdness on anyone else's faces.

"I'll explain later," she mumbled to a worried looking Harry. He visibly relaxed. No one else in the room had noticed their exchange, nor Hermione's strange happiness at her long-time archenemy's joining her in the return to school.

"Well, Mr Malfoy, I am as equally as glad," Professor McGonagall said, smiling for the second time that day.

Hermione took private delight in seeing him flush at the kindness. _Maybe he is redeemable after all_, she thought, taking care not to smile so obviously again. A nice kind of ache began to grow in her chest. _This is exactly what the Sorting Hat meant_, she thought, _we have to understand each other_. Hermione suddenly felt elated in the hope that Hogwarts might actually survive in their post-war revival.

"With you included, Mr Malfoy, it actually creates a perfect number," Professor McGonagall said. She pulled a piece of parchment out of a drawer in her desk and began to read it. "Eighteen," she said. "Eighteen for the eighth year."

Hermione started to smile. "Eighteen for eighth year," she repeated. "I like the sound of that, Professor."

"Yes, I think I rather do, too. The letters were sent out yesterday, but since you four were technically already here, I suppose you were missed. I sent a letter to each eligible student from your year group offering them a chance to return. Including three of you, eighteen have responded and accepted." Professor McGonagall waved her wand over a piece of parchment on her desk, which multiplied, and she handed a copy to each of the four students seated in front of her. Hermione purposefully ignored the fact that when Professor McGonagall said 'eligible', she meant not dead or not a Death Eater.

Hermione took hers with a small: "Thanks." And looked down at the yellowing paper; it was a version of the summer letter students received before going back to school every year:

_**HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY**_

_Headmistress: Minerva McGonagall_

_Dear [Student],_

_We are pleased to inform you that due to the irregular teaching of your seventh year, Hogwarts is offering each student a chance to return to school to redo their year and examinations in the hope that they do better. _

_We hope that you accept this opportunity and owl with your response as soon as possible. Please find enclosed a list of supplies you should need for this year. (NOTE: if you are resitting the year as opposed to having missed it, you do not need to purchase the materials again). Term begins on the 1__st __September. _

_Yours sincerely,_

_Filius Flitwick_

_Deputy Headmaster_

_P.S. A further letter will be sent out after a reply regarding the finer details of the arrangements, should you accept._

Hermione finished reading the quickest, and watched the rest of the room's occupants until they also finished. She noticed a long time ago that when Harry read, he fingered his glasses, as if he were suddenly more aware of their presence. Hermione then wondered if he needed a new prescription for them. _When was the last time he was even tested? _she thought, adding it to the mental list of things to do in her head.

Professor McGonagall hadn't even bothered reading it, and was fishing around a drawer in her desk. Hermione watched her as she pulled out a piece of parchment and also multiplied this second one. Hermione assumed it to be the more informative letter which was promised in the first.

"Here," Professor McGonagall said, handing the second letter out once it was clear everyone was done.

Hermione skimmed it. On it was a list of the eighth year attendees and an empty box in which to fill a roommates option in. It also had further details of the eighth year 'tower' that had been added to the school for their sole purpose. There was no space in the house dormitories you see, as the rest of the years had continued up as normal.

Also in this letter contained a list of subjects to choose from and a paragraph explaining how there would be many mixed year classes focusing more on capability. Hermione found herself agreeing with the new curriculum, as it made entirely more sense. The Carrows alone had jeopardised the student's education in a whole subject, therefore having first and second years working together to learn the basics again would have to be a necessity.

"So we will be in classes with this year's seventh years?" Hermione said.

"Yes, that's what we will be aiming to achieve, Miss Granger," said Professor McGonagall.

Hermione nodded. Most of the seventh years had infact achieved an okay education during their sixth year, but she also questioned how it would affect those who'd had to leave during the year like Ginny and Luna. Surely they would need to repeat the year as well? Hermione mentally shook her head. They would simply be put in some sixth year classes and catch up to their seventh year peers. Hermione found herself admiring whoever had created this idea, because it formed an efficient system which wouldn't leave anybody behind and catch everyone up to where they were supposed to be in one year – meaning that the next new first years would not be affected at all.

"Professor... I have to say, this is a wonderful idea," Hermione said.

"Thank you, Miss Granger. We were afraid at what the consequences the affect of last year would have on the students, but if all goes to plan, everything should seemingly go back to normal." Professor McGonagall stood up. "And also, while you are here, would you please choose your roommates. There are a number of rooms available but I'm afraid you cannot have one to yourself. Any number above that is agreeable. The rest of your classmates have chosen, but with yourselves included I will make the necessary changes. If you can also use this time to choose your subjects, and write so in the box underneath. You may choose the same subjects or entirely new ones if you wish. After that, I'm sure you're glad to hear, you may be dismissed. I do however request all of your presences at the opening ball on Sunday, as I would like to perform the ceremony then. Not in front of the guests of course, but I believe that evening will be best. Mr Potter, you may leave now – you do not need stay for this."

Harry blinked. "I'll just wait on Hermione. We're both going to the Burrow anyway."

Hermione shot him a look before she realised that it was okay for people to know where they were going nowadays. It was still a big deal for her to change habits after they had returned. Hermione had found herself going to bed wearing her clothes and keeping her wand under her pillow. It wasn't until Mrs Weasley had complained about her lack of washing that had jolted her out of that one.

Hermione suddenly found herself staring blankly at the list of her classmates. Who was she to pick? Obviously she couldn't imagine Professor McGonagall allowing mixed sex rooms, therefore leaving her the only choice of the girls. Hermione saw Padma Patil on there, who she didn't mind – but who had she chosen to room with? Would she even like sharing? Hermione shook her head and moved onto the other girls in the list. Her options were:

Davis, Tracey

Patil, Padma

Perks, Sally-Anne

Roper, Sophie

Turpin, Lisa

Hermione chewed her lip. What was she going to do? She had barely spoken to any of these girls in her life. She took a chance glance up at Harry, who smiled at her, obviously oblivious to her indecision. But then, as she looked past him, Hermione caught Hannah's eye. The Hufflepuff then smiled at her and pointed at herself and Hermione, as if to say: "You and me?"

Hermione grinned at her in relief. She had forgotten about Hannah, which would definitely be her first choice out of all of the girls. If Lavender or Parvati had been on the list, she may have chose them simply because that was what she knew, but now that she had the option of Hannah, Hermione was suddenly looking forward to having a roommate.

She quickly scribbled down Hannah's name into the empty box and moved down to choose her subjects. That one was easy. Hermione then again quickly scribbled: Defence Against the Dark Arts (scoffing as she did so), Transfiguration, Potions, Charms and Arithmancy into the secondary blank box and handed it back to Professor McGonagall.

"Who will be teaching Defence this year, Professor?" she said, standing up.

Professor McGonagall smirked before she replied. "Bill Weasley," she said.

"Oh!" Hermione said, clapping her hands together.

"But he didn't say anything!" said Harry, also standing.

"Well, yes, I imagine he would have wanted to announce it properly. I may have ruined any plans he may have had for that."

"Don't worry, Professor, we promise we'll act surprised," Hermione said with a smile. "Anyway," she said, turning to Harry. "Shall we get going?" she asked him.

"Yeah, uh, let's go," he said. "Is that all? Are we done?" Harry asked Professor McGonagall.

"Yes, I certainly believe so. Mr Malfoy, will you be able to acquire the chair by Sunday?"

Malfoy was frowning at the choice form before he looked up. "Yes," he said simply before looking down again. Hermione smirked. _He must be having the same problem as I did_, she thought.

"Okay then," Professor McGonagall said. She then made shooing gestures with her hands. "Now leave and enjoy the last week of your freedom before you have to return to school again. Go, now, shoo."

Hannah then handed back her form and also stood. "Can I walk with you?" she said shyly to Harry and Hermione.

"Of course!" Hermione replied. She then hesitated and glanced at Malfoy. Waiting for him would just be weird, but leaving without him would be rude. It was truly a dilemma. She looked at Harry. He sighed.

"Malfoy?" Harry asked.

Malfoy slowly looked up at him, implying the incredulousness of the offer before he even had to speak. "I'm fine," he said, and then turned back to the paper. "But, thanks," he added, surprising everyone.

"Right," Harry said, glossing over the fact that Malfoy had just been polite to them. "Thanks, Professor." He then turned and walked out the door.

"Goodbye," Hermione said, and then followed her dark-haired friend. She didn't hear what Hannah said, but it couldn't have been very long as she joined the other two at the bottom of the stairs not long after.

Their walk through the castle was quiet, but not uncomfortably so. Hermione linked arms with Harry as they walked through the Entrance Hall.

"You know," she said in a hushed tone, "I didn't think I could ever see the castle in the same way again."

"I know what you mean," replied Hannah as she opened the door. The three of them walked outside and into the yellow afternoon August sun, relishing the feel of the warmth on their faces. "I never thought I could look at the lake again and imagine myself down there reading a book." Harry and Hermione both gave her an inquisitive look. "We weren't allowed to wander the grounds last year," she explained.

"Oh, how awful," Hermione said.

Hannah laughed emotionlessly. "That wasn't the half of it."

Hermione flushed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean..."

"It's okay," Hannah said, waving her hand. "I know you weren't trying to be insensitive."

"It's just... when everything looks so... _normal_, it's easy to forget," Hermione said.

They crossed the courtyard, and didn't fail to notice that the brickwork was glittering in the sunlight and the rustling of trees could be heard along with the sound of the owls going to and from the owlry.

"Yeah," Harry said after a moment. "It's hard to think that people duelled to the death here."

Hermione looked at him; his eyes were downcast, so she rubbed his arm with her other hand in comforting manner. He looked up at her and they shared a sad smile. They had been through a lot together, and their silent understandings were only one of the few things they had got from it.

"Did you see everyone who's coming back this year?" Hannah said, changing the subject. "Not a lot of Slytherins... _or_ Gryffindors in fact."

Harry shook his head. "I didn't take a proper look," he said.

"Three Gryffindors and Slytherins apiece, including myself and Malfoy," Hermione replied. "Well, I stand corrected: _two_ Gryffindors," she said bitterly. "Who would have thought it? More Slytherins than Gryffindors! Ha!" She scoffed. It was then Harry's turn to rub her arm sympathetically.

"So who's the Gryffindors?" Harry asked.

"Neville and Dean," Hannah said, looking at him around Hermione (who was in the middle of them both).

"And the Slytherins?" he said.

"Tracey Davis and Blaise Zabini. Don't really know much about them, to be honest," Hannah replied with a shrug.

"Zabini's a prat but Tracey's okay," Hermione said. Harry raised an eyebrow at her. "Okay, I've never spoken to her, but I used to see her in the library a lot, so she can't be that bad, right?"

And at that, she had both Harry and Hannah laughing loudly.

"Only you, Hermione, would trust someone simply because they're a regular at the library," Harry said, wiping away a tear.

Hermione huffed in response. They had reached the gate, and she walked ahead to say the incantation to open it for them.

Once on the other side, and past the anti-disapparation wards, the three stopped and looked at one another.

"I don't know about you guys, but I think I might like this year," Hannah said with a grin on her face.

Hermione smiled in response. "I think I might, too."

Hannah then gave a small wave and disapparated with a neat _crack!_

Harry and Hermione turned and looked at one another. "You want to go side-along or shall I?" he said.

Hermione looked thoughtful for a moment before she smiled mischievously and said: "Neither!" and disapparated with a _crack!_ not unlike Hannah's.

Harry simply shook his head and smiled before focusing on visualising the apparaition point at the Burrow, and followed the ladies' suit by disappearing at the gates of Hogwarts with a _crack!_.

* * *

**A/N:** I'M SORRY. I know I promised the Burrow and the Manor but I write too many words ok and this chapter would have been insanely long if I had included all that. NEXT ONE THOUGH I PROMISE.

Oh, and what do you think about Bill, eh? I've always thought that he would take that position in canon, so I thought "what the hell?!" I'd add it in here too. Mm, ain't he lovely though?

_**Holly – xo**_


	6. Chapter 6

Hermione awoke to the sound of chickens clucking and the warm yellow light of the early morning sun streaming across her face. She sighed into her pillow; if only every day began as it did at The Burrow. It was just so peaceful and _good_.

It was strange to admit, but this house seemed more like home that anywhere else she had ever lived. Over the past few years especially, it had become clear to Hermione that she hadn't really felt at home in her childhood home. Yes, she'd had a lovely ten years with her parents without magic, but there was always that underlying sense of not-quite-fitting-in. Her favourite books as a child were her mother's old Enid Blyton ones, such as Mallory Towers - where the characters went to huge boarding schools in the country. It had fascinated her then and when she was invited to attend Hogwarts, it was like all of her dreams had come true at once. Hogwarts itself was like a second home to her, but the constant threat of imminent danger did often put a damper on that. Like Harry, she preferred the peaceful chaos at The Burrow.

The two of them had been adopted in all but name by the Weasleys after they had returned in May. When Mr and Mrs Weasley had learned that they didn't have anywhere else to go, it had been a no brainer for them to offer their home up to the two teenagers, not that it had been any kind of inconvenience for either party.

Harry had moved into Percy's old room and Hermione was staying in Fred and George's room. She had originally felt uncomfortable about it, so soon after Fred's death – but George had all but shouted at her over the kitchen table, ensuring that spreading her "all encompassing rule-abiding germs" over their space was a hell of a lot better than it not being lived in at all. But he had relented and taken back his statement, cheekily reminding her that while he was the prankster, he was no bank robber.

So, with her new bedroom she was now also across the hall from Harry. She'd giggled when she remembered the mini wars on the landing between the twins and their strict rule-loving brother. Silencing charms were one of the first spells each Weasley ever learned, and Harry and Hermione soon caught on.

She couldn't understand how Mr and Mrs Weasley did it. Everything must have made them feel nostalgic about a better time for their family, and sad about how much had changed, because that was certainly how Hermione felt being back at The Burrow. It was almost as if she was constantly sighing, remembering how something was again so different. But she didn't let it get to her. She couldn't. Each morning was a new day, and every day that was wasted dwelling on the past was a day that nothing progressed and the future wouldn't become something better. That's what she told herself each morning as she dressed before leaving the strange sanctuary that being in the twins room had created.

Hermione hadn't changed much about the room, but as soon as it had been given to her, she had charmed the two beds together, creating a double and added her usual protective spells encased in a pretty pair of pale yellow curtains over the previously bare windows. She had attempted, but failed, to rid the room of the smell of gun powder, but the lingering additional smell of fir trees and candy was rather pleasant. Hermione would never have guessed that she would see the day when she was comforted by Fred and George Weasley's figurative presence.

Stretching her arms above her head and sighing contentedly, Hermione lay in bed for a few moments of silence before throwing the pale blue duvet off and getting up to dress. She pulled clean underwear, a pair of dark blue jeans and a lilac t-shirt out of the dresser and flicked her wand at the bed (causing it to make itself) and left to head downstairs to the bathroom.

In the previous summers she'd spent there, it had been almost impossible to get the bathroom as soon as you got up. There were three bathrooms in the house; one on the ground floor across from Mr and Mrs Weasley's room, one on the first floor where Bill, Charlie and Ginny's rooms are, and a small one on the top floor, across from Ron's room (there were four floors in the Burrow). Therefore only herself and Harry were using the one on the floor below them, as there was only the six of them in the house – Molly, Arthur, Harry, Ron, Ginny and Hermione. Bill obviously had Shell Cottage and Charlie had stayed for a few weeks but had gone back to Romania once he knew that his parents were going to be okay. Percy had grown rather fond of his flat in London, and had chosen to permanently stay there and George, despite his mother's protests, had chosen to stay in his and Fred's flat above the shop in Diagon Alley, so the roost, as they say, had been flown by most of the Weasley children.

Hermione showered quickly, and spent barely a moment on her appearance in the floor-length mirror in the bathroom. It wasn't as if she was going anywhere special. Mrs Weasley had taught her few handy charms since she had begun living there. One included a spell that dried her hair, and another that curled it neatly and another that corrected any blemishes on her face. Hermione didn't feel the need for any more than that.

Throwing her pyjamas and damp towel into the wash basket, she took one last glance at herself in the mirror and opened the door to leave. Hermione was instead met with a blow to the face, and was forced to stumble back over the threshold.

"Oh my god, _Hermione_! Are you okay? I swear I didn't mean it. Oh _god_. I was just trying to knock to see if it was empty!"

Pressing her hand against her forehead, Hermione dazedly straightened up and found herself looking into the face of her best friend.

"Wha... No, Harry, it's okay. _I'm_ okay. I promise," she said. "I've had a lot worse."

Harry frowned. He didn't appreciate the post-war humour yet. Not that the jokes were necessarily a good thing, but at least it was progress. "You need ice on it or something?" he said, checking her over.

She swatted his probing hand away from her cheek. "No," she said firmly. "I am _fine_."

"If you say so," he said. "But yeah, I'm glad I ran into you before breakfast, I wanna ask you something."

"We're basically neighbours, Harry, it's hardly difficult for us to run into one another," Hermione bit out. Her head hurt, but she wasn't going to tell him that.

"Well, yeah, but I was going to ask whether you think it's a good idea letting Ron in on everything?" he said cautiously. When Hermione blankly stared at him, he said, "Hogwarts? New prophecy? Us being magical descendents and representatives of the greatest witches and wizards that ever existed?"

"Oh, _that_," Hermione said emotionlessly.

"I didn't hit you that hard, did I?" Harry poked at her face again jokingly.

"Again, _no_." Hermione side-stepped his hand, so that she was now standing outside the door and he was inside the bathroom. "I just temporarily forgot. It's easy to forget about Hogwarts whenever we're here." She gestured to her surroundings. "But to answer your question: _yes_. You know how I feel about leaving Ron out of things."

"Yeah, I know, but this is different. Like, if this got out – can you imagine the press? '_The Chosen One: Defeats Heir of Slytherin without Knowing He's the Heir of Gryffindor_'. And that's not even taking into consideration whether they believe it or not. The Aurors already don't take me seriously enough because they think I'm some big-shot who only got in with his name!" He threw his hands in the air and sighed.

Hermione put her hand on his arm, which immediately calmed him. She removed it and said, "Well, you just have to prove them wrong, don't you?" She smiled. "But I understand. I've thought about all of that already, but I do think we should tell him. Imagine how he would feel if we didn't? How would we explain the past two days? Of course he has to know, Harry."

"Yeah, I know. I was going to tell him anyway, but I just wanted to hear that it was a good idea first."

Hermione laughed shortly. "I'm glad you think my opinion is automatically a good idea."

Harry began to close the door. "Usually," he said with a sly grin and clicked it shut.

Hermione chuckled and made her way down the stairs and towards the scent of Molly Weasley's cooking. She casually flicked her wand at her face, and the pain Harry's misguided fist had caused disappeared. She smiled. Today was a going to be a good day, she just knew it.

...

"So we're really doing it then?" Ron said quietly.

The trio were lounging on a patch of dry grass a few feet from the back door. After a fulfilling breakfast, Harry had motioned for Ron and Hermione to follow him out the door. Awkwardly announcing that he was going for a walk, he was oblivious to Ginny following their retreating backs with narrowed eyes. Hermione however did see the action. She sighed. That was something she would have to deal with later.

Hermione had neatly explained to Ron and his shocked expression exactly what they had been called to Hogwarts for. He hadn't really noticed her absence since she had recently taken to staying at the school often, but he had questioned why Harry had gone. Whenever Harry was involved, it was never really a good thing.

They hadn't really discussed it since the bust up after Hermione announced she was going back to school, but the three of them were heading in separate directions when term started back in a week, and this was what the conversation had finally turned to.

"I suppose we are," Hermione said, reaching for her boyfriend's hand.

Their relationship had been going fairly well over the summer. It was sweet and comfortable and everything Hermione had imagined it to be. Sure, there were moments of awkwardness and their usual arguments happened, but something had changed after the first time they had slept together. There was now a closeness and understanding they shared that they had never had before. Ron grasped her hand tight and smiled at her.

"I can't believe Ron and I are going to the Ministry and you're going to Hogwarts," Harry said, shaking his head at Hermione.

"I know," she said. "But I just have to do this. You get that, right?"

"Yeah, I understand. Probably more so because of what the hat said, but yeah, Auror training won't be your thing anyway."

"Still sucks, though," Ron mumbled.

Hermione put her head on his shoulder. "We'll write and I'll be home during the holidays. It won't be too bad." She used her free hand to absentmindedly draw patterns on his leg with her finger. "But I have to go up to Hogwarts before the first. There's the ball and some stuff that the four of us have to do apparently. And we need to make sure that Malfoy actually gets the chair."

"Are you sure that he's actually going to get it though? He's hardly reliable."

Hermione stilled her hand and lifted her head up to look at Ron. "I thought we'd quit with the 'he can't be trusted with anything because he's Malfoy' nonsense. Do you think that, too?" she said, turning to Harry, who shrugged.

"I don't know. I'm not questioning his capability... whatever it is he has to do... but this is a massive favour for us, and do you really think he's going to put all of his effort into helping _us_?" he said.

Hermione pursed her lips. "Okay fine, you have a point. But he's not going to give up his chance to prove himself. That's his vice." When she was met with blank stares she sighed and continued. "He's a typical Slytherin. _The_ Slytherin, apparently. Therefore, he's always going to want to be on the winning side – and at the top, it seems. This is the chance for him and his family to do exactly that."

Harry smirked. "I bet Narcissa will be throwing him into our arms as soon as she hears."

"Oh, I don't think so," Hermione said. She plucked a weary looking daisy from the grass.

"What?" Ron turned and looked at her.

"Do you two really know nothing about people?" Hermione said in an exasperated tone. "I don't think Narcissa will even find out about this."

"Why not?" Harry barked.

"Because Malfoy won't tell her," Hermione shot at him.

"Again, _why not_?" Harry said.

Hermione could see his temper rising, so she sighed and began to explain. "Narcissa Malfoy may be a Malfoy and a Black at that, but first and foremost she is a mother. Don't look at me like that! She was ready to betray Voldemort just to find her son, or do you like to forget that, too? Therefore, I can't see her being comfortable with Draco being in the middle of anything again. She made Snape take a bloody Unbreakable Vow in order to keep him protected. It's obvious she's protective of her son. So something like this? Where he's been named a 'reincarnated Salazar Slytherin'? Most likely that would be her worst nightmare. She thought she'd saved him from the life Lucius led and being Slytherin's magical heir would definitely not be a step in the right direction. Malfoy knows this and I definitely can't see him going home to tell his mother." Hermione huffed. Sometimes she really questioned how these boys functioned without her.

"What about Lucius then? Surely his father would be proud to hear the good news," Ron spat.

"Oh goodness, no," Hermione said shaking her head. "He would gladly tell Narcissa before going to Lucius."

"Uh, why?"

"Because telling Lucius something like that would just be the catalyst to recalling the surviving Death Eaters together and starting another war. He would immediately make Draco the new leader and a whole new bunch of ideals would be released. No doubt, Muggle-Born hatred related. Another heir of Slytherin? You have got to be kidding. That attention and nonsense would be the last thing Draco would want."

Harry and Ron both stared at her for a moment. "You seem to know an awful lot about this, Hermione. How the hell do you know Malfoy so well?"

"I don't," she said calmly. "I simply observe and take an interest in understanding people. Remember that's what we're supposed to be doing?"

"It's not like I want to spend a whole load of time thinking about Malfoy," Harry mumbled. Hermione laughed.

"So... he's totally alone in this?" Ron said with a frown on his face.

"Yes, I suppose he is. I can't imagine him letting any of his _friends_ in on this either."

"Why not?" Ron asked.

"Slytherins don't have friends. They have people they need and people who are considered socially appropriate around them. Look at who Malfoy hung around with at school. Crabbe and Goyle? Come on, even Malfoy needs more stimulating acquaintances than that. They were just his pureblood muscle."

"God, Hermione, you really do _get_ him don't you?" Harry said in a shocked tone.

Hermione blinked at him. Did he really think she had some kind of connection with Malfoy? She fought off a giggle. Ludicrous. But he was kind of right. If she thought about it, she really did understand someone rather well for being enemies for years. A small traitorous voice murmured in the back of her head: _but were we really enemies?_ The animosity was driven by the position of their parents rather than what she and Malfoy had actually done to each other. She tried imagining for a moment a world that existed where neither parents lived and they had been introduced without blood labels. _Would they have gotten on?_

Hermione shook her head to get rid of the traitorous thoughts and images that were running through her head. "When looked at objectively and with titles, anyone's behaviour can be predicted," she said offhandedly. "Especially Slytherins."

Ron and Harry seemed to accept her answer, but her racing heart and sudden sense of guilt told Hermione that she wasn't exactly being entirely honest with her friends, or herself.

* * *

**A/N:** Okay, so yeah, a nice short little filler for you all. It was just a glimpse into the trio's home life and Ron & Hermione's relationship... before everything goes tits up... hehehe...

_**Holly - xo**_


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